Price of Paradise, a Letter

Michael Keale

Dear Leilani,

Yesterday I was flummoxed. 

That's a fancy word for bewildered or perplexed. It's the first word that came to me because it seemed to express my feeling of frustration, as though I had been hit from all sides and tied into a knot.

You told me that living on the island was like living in a third-world country, so what did I expect? My experience didn't come as a big surprise but it did set me back. I had to recalibrate, refocus and count the blessings of being here. I try to avoid the word blessings because it sounds religious and trite. Yet it fits.

We have fallen in love with the casual pace, natural beauty and friendly people. Even the television newscasters have become family, or ohana, as you call it. They laugh so easily and make us feel at home way out here in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, almost as if we were sailing together on the Hokulea, the replica voyaging canoe that has been retracing early Polynesian seafaring, and currently in a fjord in frigid Alaskan waters.

In addition to family, the locals seem to love adventure, like riding big waves and catching big fish, and coming together for kanikapila (musical beach jams).

I'm sure I mentioned that Hawaiian singer Michael Keale is our neighbor here at Puamana, and his lovely wife, Linda, who dances hula. He performs regularly here on the north shore at Tahiti Nui, Happy Talk and the outdoor stage at the Westin Resort. I often marvel that so many tourists are treated to his traditional Hawaiian voice and style. Do they realize he is the real deal? They're mostly focussed on their Mai Tais and pupus.

Puamana, besides being the name of our condo village, is also the name of a well-known Hawaiian mele (song) that sings the beauty of a homestead near Lahaina on Maui. You may not have known that, since you seem to stay so local.

Like you, we have made good friends here, including Rick and Marcie Carroll, who have spent about 40 years in Hawaii. Lovely people. Coincidentally, they were reporters at the San Jose Mercury-News when I started my career there in 1970. They can talk story about the islands, have been involved in publishing books on Hawaiian culture and more. Rick was a feature writer for the daily Honolulu Advertiser and Marcie directed her talents toward the Hawaii Tourism Authority in the 1980 salad days.

Through them, we met Tony and Carla Stoffel, originally from California, who have owned a condo at Puamana since the 1970s. Also lovely people. We all enjoy going together to hear our neighbor Michael perform whenever possible.

Barbara and I have also met many local folks at the morning yoga class three times a week at the Princeville Community Center. That's where I met Curly Carswell, the Renaissance Man of Kauai (blog post 5/21/21) and Skip Rush, acupuncturist, healer and tai chi master. Skip and his wife, Donna, introduced me to the ancient martial art from China. The basis for kung fu, tai chi has transformed into an artful, choreographed group expression in China. I wouldn't be surprised if it landed in the Summer Olympics someday.

Regarding tai chi, rather than bore you, allow me to simply say: the primary objective of tai chi is to relax. According to Peter Beemer, a visiting tai chi master, the second objective is "to relax more."

You always seem fairly relaxed, Leilani, so I doubt you would get too much more out of it. I find it fascinating because it delves so deep. Barbara just rolls her eyes and bends into downward dog.

Of course we have our wonderful daughter, Isabel Bryna, and grandchildren, Viva and Mystiko, who reside in nearby Kilauea, our primary reason for coming to the island. We love to have them over and to visit them. Viva always comes with her pet Chihuahua, Daisy. I think you would like her.

Maureen the Queen -- aka Mors or Mo -- and her hubby Carl are neighbors of Bryna in Kilauea. They are from Santa Cruz, as is Mors' daughter, Taryn, whose daughter Ili and husband Jake also reside in Kilauea. You'll find Mors most mornings riding the surf in Hanalei Bay. Howzit Mors! Shaka, girl! These days, Carl prefers his motorcycle.

Blue Buddha 2.0

Kauai Eats Cars

Not being a driver, Leilani, you may not know that there is basically one, two-lane road around the island. Traffic might jolt to a standstill at anytime. Kauai is an island of gorgeous waterfalls (wailele) that flow as streams and rivers to the ocean. Runoff and puddling is common. Roads are under repair somewhere on the island every day. A new section of road is good for about 11 years.

The resulting potholes, cracks and fissures wreak havoc on motor vehicles tires, struts and shocks. The salty climate is corrosive. "Kauai eats cars," says Arlen the island mechanic.

The price of paradise, therefore, is the cost of a reliable vehicle. The Kauai bus system is very good and will get you around the island -- only one dollar for kupuna (elders) -- but will involve a fair amount of timely scheduling and walking to and from bus stops. It could rain cats and dogs, excuse the expression Leilani, at any moment.

Those cars you see by the side of the road, some with the letters AV (abandon vehicle), indicate an auto parts cafeteria. They turn to skeletons within a few days. 

So you see, Leilani, how important (Hawaiian pronunciation: import-Tant) your ride can be. Our Blue Buddha (see blog post 5/1/22) served a valuable function with the exception of not always starting when the ignition was turned on. We poured a bundle of dollars into her -- new starter, battery, alternator, radiator fan, AC fan and more. Yet I cannot tell you how many times I found myself stranded at Pavillions in Hanalei under a rainbow.

We took the Buddha to see the car doctor, left her at his shop for the day while we joy rode around Lihue on the bus. One full circuit takes about 10 minutes. The doctor had his staff turn the Buddha's key every hour. She started every time. Sly girl. 

"I cannot fix her without a diagnosis," said the doc. "She has to not start."

That left me nowhere. In the Void, as the Buddha would say. 

Barbara began furiously reading Craig's List under cars and trucks. For a small island, Kauai drivers rack up the mileage. Most cars listed 100,000-400,000 miles, as if it were a selling point, a special feature. Anything with fewer miles cost $30,000. You can rent a car for $100 a day, or $10,000 for four months.

I decided to tour Craigs List and see what I could find. Within a few short minutes, there she was! Leilani, you know how excited I can become. I found a Blue Buddha lookalike, same color, two years newer with a mere 68,000 miles for $9,400.

Within minutes I had called the owner and we were on our way to Kapaa to see the vehicle. Rain was falling as though the heavens were crying. We were not disappointed. She appeared pristine, especially for her age, a 2007 Honda CRV. The owner, a gentleman of our age, said we had to be quick, a short test drive, he already had two offers for $8,500. One prospect had driven to Kalaheo to get his money.

The interior was impeccable, soft black leather seats, clean, handy shelf in back hatch area. Good tires. The test drive was short under rain. 

"Would you take $8,800?"

"You seem nice," he said. "Make it $8,700."

Deal. We would withdraw the money at the bank next door.

A van pulled into the driveway, the buyer returning from Kalaheo presumably with cash. The seller approached the van and returned. "He was not happy."

Surprise Surprise

Two weeks later I take this sparkling Blue Buddha 2.0 for its regular maintenance, oil change, tire rotation, lube. On the way, I hear rattling when the CRV hits road bumps.

When I return to pick up car, Arlen the car doctor meets me with a curious fatalistic expression: "I think it's time to sell."

Silence.

"I just bought her."

Big grimace from car doc. "How much you pay?"

I tell him.

Bigger grimace.

"I thought it was your other car," he said, referring to the original Blue Buddha.

"I sold it."

"How much?"

"A thousand."

Biggest grimace yet.

"You could have got $3,000."

"Not if she won't start."

He hands me sheet of needed repairs amounting to just over $3,000.

I am flummoxed, Leilani. I feel nausea creeping up my insides. My lips dry. My cheeks numb. I need tai chi, bad.

I simply had to tell someone. Being a well-mannered feral Siamese cat, a creature of equanimity, you, if anyone, would understand. 

Mahalo for being a part of the island blessings.

Leilani